


Lassie May Tap But Shawn Wants To Tango

by f0rcryin0utl0ud



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Episode Tag, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rcryin0utl0ud/pseuds/f0rcryin0utl0ud
Summary: Lassiter's head bowed and he let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled a case file from the cabinet in front of him. Spencer had followed him into the records room after he'd returned to the station once the recital had ended. “What do you want, Spencer?”
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 178





	Lassie May Tap But Shawn Wants To Tango

**Author's Note:**

> First Psych fic besides the snippet I wrote years ago. Still trying to get back into the swing of actually writing after 7 years of writer's block - it's like pulling teeth. Sorry for the roughness of this, or if it sounds OOC.
> 
> Thanks to Nixa Jane for the title!

“So tap, huh?” 

Lassiter's head bowed and he let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled a case file from the cabinet in front of him. Spencer had followed him into the records room after he'd returned to the station once the recital had ended. “What do you want, Spencer?”

When Lassiter turned to glare at the younger man he found him leaning against the closed door of the records room, hands shoved in his pockets, grinning at him. When he saw Lassiter's glare his grin widened and he pushed away from the door and stepped closer. “It was kind of hot watching you suddenly solve that case on stage,” Spencer said, voice low, seductive. Carlton narrowed his eyes.

“I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play here, Spencer,” Lassiter growled.

“No game, Lassie,” Spencer said quickly, voice suddenly normal as he held up a hand. He quirked a grin, and shrugged a shoulder. “I was just thinking there are other ways to hone your focus, besides tap dancing.”

Carlton snorted. “I don't need help with my focus, least of all from you, Spencer,” he snapped. He clutched the case file he'd grabbed from the cabinet and moved to push past the other man toward the door.

“You forget, Lassie-face, I'm psychic. I know that's not true,” Spencer teased, as he grabbed Carlton's arm, his fingers hot on the exposed skin where Carlton had rolled his dress shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“You're about as psychic as I am, Spencer,” Lassiter growled, shaking him off.

Spencer's grin turned downright dirty, there was no other way to describe it and Carlton found himself swallowing past a suddenly dry throat but forced his face to remain neutral and refused to take a step back when the younger man moved closer. “So tell me what's going to happen Lassie?” he murmured and Lassiter had had enough – of the teasing, the flirting, the...god damn blue balls that he'd been living with for five years now.

He grabbed Spencer by the front of his shirt, tossed the file he was holding on a nearby cabinet and spun him, pressing him against the closed door of the records room, propping his free arm against the door above Spencer's head as he bent closer and growled, “Nothing is happening, Spencer. Get it through your thick skull – this, whatever _this_ game you keep playing is, it's never going to happen.” It couldn't. Lassiter couldn't let it – couldn't let Spencer have any more over him. 

“I keep telling you, Lassie,” Spencer murmured, just a little breathless and Lassiter could see his hazel eyes were now dark, pupils blown wide, “this isn't a game.” He smelled like pineapples. Lassiter didn't know if it was all those god damn pineapple smoothies he was always slurping down obscenely, or if he used pineapple scented products too.

While Spencer had been distracting him, Lassiter hadn't noticed the other man's hands gently tugging Carlton's shirt from its tucked in status and Carlton shivered when he felt warm fingers ghosting over the bare skin of his back. “What are you-” Lassiter muttered.

Spencer leaned closer, his breath warm against Carlton's ear, his neck, his fingers curling around Carlton's tie, tugging him closer. “I could be so much better than tap,” he teased, his voice low and seductive again and Carlton felt his resolve crumbling. Damn the man and his constant...presence in Lassiter's life.

“Spencer,” Lassiter warned, but then there were Spencer's lips on his own and Carlton's resolve was suddenly in pieces around his feet as he fell into the kiss, releasing the hold he still had on Spencer's...Shawn's shirt to clutch at his hip and pull him closer. The noise Shawn made went straight to Carlton's cock and he groaned, feeling himself begin to harden before he remembered where he was and pulled back.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying to step back but Shawn had become an octopus in the middle of their kiss and was wrapped around Lassiter and refusing to let him pull more than a few inches away. “Spencer,” he tried. “_Shawn_,” and oh the way the younger man looked at him when Carlton used his first name did all kinds of things to his insides that did not at all bear looking at right then. “We're at the _station_,” he hissed. There was that dirty grin again and Carlton didn't know if he hated it or god damn _loved_ that grin for what it promised.

“Don't worry, Lassidophilus,” Shawn breathed, “I can be _very_ quiet.”

Lassiter couldn't help it, he snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “I have yet to see evidence of that,” he said wryly.

Shawn grinned wickedly before...Carlton's breath caught in his throat as Shawn slid to his knees between him and the door, making quick work of Lassiter's pants before he had the chance to protest once again that they were in the _station, oh god._ Spencer didn't tease, and by the time he had his hand on Lassiter's cock Carlton was already painfully hard. 

The first swipe of Shawn's tongue over the crown of his cock had Carlton biting his lip so hard he almost drew blood, desperate not to make a sound. He leaned his head on the arm he still had propped against the door to better watch as Shawn sucked him off with a singular focus that nearly made Carlton's knees weak, his free hand finding its way into Shawn's hair, tugging gently, as his hips began to carefully rock into the wet heat of Shawn's mouth.

They shouldn't be doing this here. They shouldn't be doing this at all, but “Fuck,” Carlton gasped as Shawn took him deeper, his fingers tightening reflexively in the younger man's hair, his hips snapping forward and _oh god,_ Shawn just took it and that, that just put too many god damn images in Carlton's head that he knew, just knew he was never going to be able to get rid of again. It was too late though, his body responding almost without his consent as he began thrusting harder, faster, _fuck_, deeper; fucking Shawn's mouth right there in the station where anyone could walk in on them. See Shawn on his knees with Carlton's cock in his mouth. On his knees _for_ Lassiter and oh shit, who knew that was apparently a kink Carlton had? 

Whether it was getting caught having sex in semi-public, or the thought of getting caught having sex with Shawn, either way, Carlton could feel himself getting close and he tugged a warning on Shawn's hair but the younger man just _hummed_ and swallowed around Carlton and that was enough to push him over and he came, Shawn's name a low moan pulled unwillingly from his throat.

Carlton stayed propped against the door, waiting until his breath and heart returned to normal, his eyes closed. When he opened them, Shawn was still on his knees, leaning back against the door his own pants undone and shoved down his thighs, a hand wrapped around his own hard cock and if Lassiter was a younger man, he was sure he would have gotten hard again from the sight alone. “Get up here,” he muttered, reaching down and dragging Shawn to his feet, plastering him against the door in the same position he was before he dropped to his knees and Carlton resumed his position, arm above Shawn, hand on his now naked hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles against the warm skin. Shawn's head was tilted back against the door and he was watching Carlton with that same dirty grin, but there was also something wary underneath it, not quite sure what Lassiter was going to do now.

At one time Carlton would have revelled in Shawn feeling a little less cocksure than he normally seemed, but...well. Perhaps mind blowing blowjobs mellowed him. He leaned down and captured Shawn's mouth, tasting himself in the kiss and his cock twitched in arousal even if there was no way he was going to get it up again so soon. His free hand moved from Shawn's hip to curl possessively around the younger man's straining erection and Carlton slowly stroked from base to tip in a loose grip that had Shawn whimpering into Carlton's mouth.

Suddenly Carlton didn't care about being in the station; the only thought in his head was that he wanted to hear more, wanted to see what it would take to make Shawn give up every delicious noise he could. He swiped his thumb over the head of Shawn's cock, ran his nail gently over the slit and grinned at the moan it caused, at the way Shawn's hips bucked as he thrust into Carlton's fist.

Shawn pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, panting as his hands deftly undid the buttons on Carlton's dress shirt, pushing it open to slide his hands around and clutch at Carlton's shoulders, his hips never stopping moving and Carlton bent his head lower, running his lips along Shawn's neck, grinning at the hissed intake of breath it caused before he nipped at the skin under his lips. He gathered the accumulating moisture from the tip of Shawn's cock with another swipe of his thumb, firming his strokes a half dozen times before loosening his grip again and chuckling at the whimper of frustration it elicited.

One of Shawn's hands slid into Carlton's hair and he tugged just shy of too hard. “I didn't peg you for a tease, Lassie,” he muttered, voice hoarse with want and from having Carlton's cock in his throat and that thought had Carlton sucking a bruising kiss into Shawn's skin, his grip tightening on Shawn's erection as he began to stroke in earnest.

Despite the promise he could be very quiet, Shawn was unable to hold in the little moans and gasps that every touch of Carlton's hand and mouth elicited until finally, he pressed his face against Carlton's chest and cried out his release, with a string of desperate, “LassieLassieLassie,” moaned against Carlton's skin, spilling over Carlton's fist and stomach and his own button down shirt. Carlton milked him through the last of his orgasm before letting Shawn's softening cock slip from his grip.

“Holy shit,” Shawn mumbled against Carlton's skin, his lips feather light, his breath hot, “that was amazing, Lassie.” He nuzzled against Carlton's throat, pressing a quick kiss to his skin before Carlton felt the unmistakable touch of Shawn's tongue against his neck. Jesus.

“Shawn,” he muttered, his come slick hand curling in the fabric of Shawn's now ruined shirt. He wasn't sure if he wanted to pull him closer or push him away. What the hell was he thinking?

“Don't,” Shawn mumbled, his hands sliding down Carlton's back to slip under the waistband of pants and boxers to palm his ass and pull him closer, ignoring the mess between them. “Stop over thinking this, Lassie,” he whispered, trailing his mouth along Carlton's jaw to his ear, nipping at the earlobe, reversing the path to move down Carlton's neck to his collarbone where Shawn proceeded to suck and worry the skin under his mouth until there was no doubt that Carlton was well and truly marked from the endeavour. Oh look at that, another kink he didn't realize he had. Shawn Spencer was going to be death of him.

While Shawn had been doing his best to mark him, Carlton hadn't even realized that his own hand had migrated to Shawn's ass, pulling them flush against each other as Carlton began to grind against the younger man, his own breathing becoming harsh as he panted out his arousal against Shawn's ear. He was almost half hard again.

The doorknob jiggling behind them had Carlton jerking upright and away from Shawn, hissing in a breath as he took in Shawn's half naked state before him, and his own almost fully naked state – Jesus, when had Shawn shoved Carlton's pants and boxers down around his knees?

“Who locked the records room?” Dobson's annoyed voice came from the other side of the door and Shawn's eyebrows rose with a quirk of his lips but Lassiter didn't have time to appreciate it. He was too busy trying to yank up his pants and boxers, while trying to button his dress shirt – fuck, was that come all over his tie?

He glanced up and saw Shawn watching him, a mixture of amusement and disappointment in his gaze. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “Get dressed! Dobson will be back with the key any minute now.”

Shawn held his hand to his temple like Carlton had seen him do so many times before when he was having a 'vision' and said, “I'm sensing Dobson won't be getting in any time soon.”

Carlton narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?” he asked, his movements beginning to slow but not totally stopping, as his attention was drawn to Shawn's mischievous look.

Reaching into his pocket, Shawn pulled out the key to the records room and twirled it around his index finger with a smirk. Carlton shut his eyes and took a steadying breath. “You stole the records room key?”

“Borrowed,” Shawn corrected primly.

“You're impossible,” Carlton muttered, finishing straightening out his clothes and pulling the ruined tie from around his neck, shoving it in his pocket.

“Resourceful,” Shawn corrected once more, grinning again as his gaze roamed over Lassiter. “Hmm, that's a good look on you, Lassie,” he purred. Actually purred and Carlton had the overwhelming desire to pin him against the door again. “You look thoroughly debauched.”

Carlton had little doubt Shawn was telling the truth about that. “You look indecent,” he muttered, “get dressed.”

Shawn frowned at him and reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. Carlton swallowed hard. “What are you doing?”

“I can hardly walk through the station with come all over my shirt, Lassie,” Shawn answered, suddenly looking amused again. “Unless you want people to guess what went on in here?” His eyes sparkled with mischief and Carlton wondered briefly if the younger man would be daring enough to actually walk through the station looking like that, but quickly brushed the thought aside. Even Shawn Spencer wasn't crazy enough to risk the wrath of Vick, and hopefully wasn't willing to offer Lassiter up for the sacrificial lamb he'd be if Henry ever found out what had just happened between them.

By the time Carlton's thoughts had circled back around, Shawn had shrugged out of his button down and was in just a t-shirt, his pants and boxers now back in order but he too still looked thoroughly debauched, the mark Carlton had taken pleasure in sucking into his skin stark against his exposed neck now. He couldn't stop himself from reaching up and touching the mark on his own neck where he could still feel the phantom touch of Shawn's mouth.

Shawn's eyes watched his fingers trace the mark, his eyes darkening. “It's late,” he said, voice full of promise. “You can't stay here looking like you just had sex. Not unless you want people asking questions.” He quirked an eyebrow and Carlton wanted to argue just out of spite for the knowing looking Shawn was giving him but it was true none the less. He had a horrible vision of McNabb asking him about the hickey that was no doubt clearly visible because, of course, Shawn wouldn't put it in a place Carlton could hide it. The hickey that hadn't been there an hour before when he'd seen McNabb after he'd come back from the tap recital. Come back because he'd solved the West Side rapist case while on stage...and gotten distracted by Shawn...Spencer.

Lassiter swallowed and took a steadying breath, running a hand through his hair. He needed to go home, take a shower, change into something that would hide the evidence of...whatever _this_ had been between him and Spencer and then get back here to finish closing the case. 

“You're doing it again,” Shawn murmured, breaking Lassiter out of his thoughts and he snapped his gaze back to Shawn's face.

Carlton glared at him. “You're nothing like tap,” he snapped out and Shawn barked out a laugh, taking four quick strides from the door right back into Lassiter's personal space, his fingers curling around Carlton's hips.

“You didn't solve the case at your first tap class did you?” Shawn asked with a grin.

Carlton quirked an eyebrow. “Are you equating what we just did to a beginner's class in tap?” he asked incredulously. 

Shawn tugged the collar of Lassiter's shirt open a little more to expose the mark he'd left, shifting closer to brush his lips over it he mumbled, “You'll _love_ my advanced class.” Carlton's breath hitched and his eyes fluttered shut as Shawn's mouth on his skin sent heat racing through him, pooling low in his belly. “It's very specialized though,” Shawn continued and Carlton had to force himself not to reach out and touch the other man again. “Requires certain..._equipment_ that the records room doesn't have.” Carlton's eyes snapped open and Shawn took a step back, holding the key up with one finger. He grabbed his balled up button down shirt from where he'd dropped it on a cabinet and unlocked the door. “Meet me at your apartment in a half hour – or I'll start without you,” Shawn quipped with a wink and then he was gone, out the door and Lassiter was hurriedly buttoning his dress shirt up higher and grabbing the West Side rapist case file, and slipping from the room and back to his desk to get his suit jacket and car keys, stuffing the case file, as well as a few others he was working on into his briefcase.

Who knew, maybe Spencer...Shawn would prove him wrong and he'd help Lassiter close some open cases the way tap dancing had. Carlton hurried through the station, thankful he didn't see anyone as he made his way outside and to his car. If he was being honest with himself...and if nothing else, Carlton tried to at least be honest with _himself_, he didn't really care if Shawn was better than tap at helping him focus. Not when the thought of getting lost in Shawn's body, focusing on the noises he could draw from the younger man, on what else they could do in a wholly private setting, the images Shawn's words had conjured, were running through his head as he rushed home. 

Advanced class indeed, Carlton thought to himself, pushing the car just a little faster. Carlton shifted in his seat, anticipation making arousal thrum through his body as he tapped impatiently against the steering wheel. He'd enjoy showing Shawn just who would be playing the role of teacher tonight. 

The first lesson being that Shawn better _not_ have started without him.


End file.
